Bedside Frustration and Revelations
by SaidbhinLuch
Summary: Sherlock had to be under careful observation after his hospital escape. Molly may have done her bit, it does not mean she did it happily. Or not let him know how angry she really is with him. Slight language and sass.


Molly say idly in the bright hospital, skimming through the various papers scattered around the room. She chuckled loudly, ignoring the groan issuing from the bed, placing her crossed legs on the side of the bed. _"Seven times. What a load of bull-"_

'Molly? Do you mind?' The paper she held, dipped, as she moved to glance over it, as Sherlock's voice cut through the end of her musings. She tossed a piece of toffee popcorn into her mouth, chewing loudly, humming thoughtfully for a moment before pulling a _meh_ face. Without even being able to see him, she knew that Sherlock actually had the gall to look offended by her dismissive attitude. Instead of moving her feet, she simply bounced them and wiggled in her chair.

'Of course I mind, I'm here on a case, your talking is not conducive to that work.' Molly dropped the paper with a dramatised flourish, conveniently revealing the Janine expose, well one of many exposes she'd come out with. She yawned loudly, reaching to her left and raising the bed so Sherlock was sitting up, settling her feet back on the ground as she did so. She watched his face carefully as his eyes flittered around the room, settling on the IV drip a moment longer than the rest of the room. They both stared at it for a moment, Molly raising her eyebrows and then she rolled her eyes at him.

'I had them switch your meds, you are, after all, mid relapse.' His eyes scanned her for less than a moment but it was enough for her to see something else hidden in them. _Pain? Annoyance? Guilt?_ He moved slowly, well slowly for Sherlock, which was still too fast for his still healing body. Which clearly was screaming as he pulled his stitches, even he master of control, could not stop the wince that rippled across his face.

Molly was surprised by the _slight_ twinge of concern, only because it seemed so very tiny. She frowned, thinking, ignoring Sherlock completely for the almost complete lack of worry was... well worrying. Her best guess was that her was even more furious then she had first suspected, and she had gotten over the panic and fear over his latest near death experience. The prickling in her eyes told her she was disappointed in herself for hoping in believing in him or him for letting her down. As she focused back on the real world, Sherlock was opening and closing his mouth as though finding it difficult to find the words to talk to her. She cricked her neck, standing up and moving to the window and stared out at the impressive skyline. Sherlock's eyes followed her movements unusually piercing in the glass refection.

'Don't try. Please don't make promises you very well may not be able to keep.' The silence that permeated the room was deafening, both occupants in the room trying to act as though it wasn't.

'Your case?' His voice was hoarser then usual as he watched her she examined his profile in the reflection. It seemed he was trying to catch her gaze but Molly couldn't bring herself to meet it.

'To stop the Consultant Detective from being a total moron. Greg and I have been taking shifts for it really is astounding how _thick_ you actually are.'

She turned and stared at him lips quirking up into an angered smirked or pissed scowl, depending on how you looked at her face. Though she did have to admit, he evidently felt a lot more guilty then she had first surmised for he did not attempt to stop her or deflect her shots at him.

Instead he leaned back in the bed, looking up at her with raised eyebrows fingers steepled under his chin. 'Must a challenge, I've heard I'm a complete cock when it comes to such things.' Molly sat back down looking at him critically, one eyebrow lowered and the other hitting her hairline.

'You being sedated did help. I also had you handcuffed at one point no more wandering off.'

'Didn't know you liked that.' The comment seemed to slip out against his best attempts to stop himself, from being, well _himself._ Sherlock's eyes widened, his hands lowered ever so slightly as she grinned at him mischievously.

'Well... that makes two of us.' She said as she leaned over and picked up one of the papers, slowly and deliberately licking her finger and turning the pages until she reached one particular article. Molly flipped back her hair and held up the articles so he could read the title _"White hot for white coats"_. Sherlock blinked owlishly at her, the barest hints of a blush sneaking up into his face.

Molly Hooper: Two.

Sherlock Holmes: _Nil point._

'I am sorry.'

'For what exactly? The drugs? The lying? The disappearing after the wedding? The lying? The nearly dying? The crack about my life? Or... perhaps _stealing my ring to give to Janine?' _Her jaw clenched, fists tightening so much they became white and her whole body trembled with rage and pain.

'Oh.'

'The moment it was gone, when I _tried_ to give it back to Tom. I knew.'

'That was not a good decision.' Sherlock was actually avoiding her, and Molly just closed her eyes doing her best to suppress her anger.

'You should be a detective.' Molly rubbed her temple, feeling completely put upon and just done. And yet, she was still there, sitting next to him, with him, after anything.

Molly was 99.9 percent sure that she was a masochist.

'I am sorry, for so many things Molly.'

'Yeah, but I'm the real idiot for staying here. But you are some kind of man Sherlock it's hard to stay away.'

'You are the last person I would classify as an idiot. You are the most exception woman I know, or ever _will_ know.' He leaned forward, ignoring the pain that he was clearly in to tilt her head up to look him dead in the eyes and grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard. What baffled her the most was that he was not letting go, and Sherlock was not one for extended contact.

'Huh.' Molly was now the one opening and closing her mouth with only the faintest of squeaks coming out.

'Yes.' He squeezed her hand again, and she continued to look at him absolutely gobsmacked, blinking rapidly.

'Don't think I've forgiven you for all this shit.'

'Naturally not.'

'Ammm... Right.' Despite the fact that Sherlock had changed radically towards her over the past two and half years, him agreeing with her still knocked her for six. Not to mention this time, once again, he had actually spoken to her, honestly, about his _feelings._ It had simply taken her a few minutes for what he said to register.

'I sent the ring back to... Tom. With a letter.'

'Right.' She just blinked.

'He sent me some very angry messages.'

'Right.'

'Understandable.'

'Right.'

'Molly?'

'Right.' She just continued to blink at him.

'I should let you process.'

'Right.'

Molly Hooper: _Two._

Sherlock Holmes: _One._


End file.
